


Satisfied

by MissSunFlower94



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fluff and Angst, Goblins, Mutual Pining, Politics, Unresolved Tension, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-05-23 02:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6101744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSunFlower94/pseuds/MissSunFlower94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to set up better relations with the Dark Forest, King Dagda suggests a political marriage with his daughter and the Bog King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a Hamilton AU I swear. 
> 
> I just got. Very inspired.

The announcement came as a surprise to Princess Marianne for a number of reasons.

 **Number one**. Since when did her father care a wink at all for diplomacy with those vile goblins of the Dark Forest?

Okay, that was a little bit of an exaggeration, but not much of one. Her father, like most of the fairy court, had age-old prejudices where their darker neighbors were concerned. Marianne had to fight tooth and nail to even bring up the Forest in Council Meetings, and even then she was immediately shot down. 

Her father was diplomatically vague when asked about the whole thing - “Sometimes these things become necessary, my dear” - which was annoying enough when he answered like that in Council, but doing it to his daughter, in a private conversation? It was a little exasperating, it was _more_ than a little belittling, and yeah, she was little pissed off.

To add to this infuriating and confusing situation, none of the Council seemed opposed to the idea. Staunch opposers of any sort of diplomacy with the Dark Forest - the ones who still fought any sort of Elf Rights act brought up - were suspiciously silent on the whole matter. 

“I thought this is what you had been wanting,” her father continued. The rest of the Council had left but she had held him behind, demanding some kind of explanation for what felt both entirely out of the blue, and entirely out of character.

She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at the unseen pins - she wore her hair nice on Council days; much as it irritated her, she knew dressing primmer helped the crotchety old fairies take her more seriously - and sighed. “It is. You know that this is what I’ve wanted for years. You know this is what mom wanted,” she added, and yeah maybe she had said that to make him flinch a little, so what? “But I’m just- I’m confused. Why now? And why like this?”

“Like what?”

 **Number two**. “Diplomacy was one thing, but _marriage_?”

Her father shook his head. “It’s tradition, Marianne, you know that. Why before our kingdom was one united, the families of lower kings married into other families to strengthen alliances and build unity.”

Marianne rolled her eyes. “I know, I know but that’s just it; it’s fairy tradition. They’re _goblins._  Shouldn’t we at least try to talk to them and discuss _options_ before dropping this- this frankly _load-of-squirrel-dung_ arrangement at their door step? Like, maybe that’s a better stepping stone?” 

“Young lady,” he reprimanded, obviously surprised at her tone.

She threw her hands up. “We’re not in Council right now, dad, so I’m going to tell you how I feel. You might give me the same bloody courtesy.”

King Dagda sighed, and moved away from the door, back to the long table where Court was held. He sat, not on the noble seat where he proceeded from, but the lower chairs that the rest of the Council used. Marianne watched him before she moved, too, perching so she half sat on the table next to his seat, looking down at him. 

When he looked up at her again, Marianne could see all at once that this hadn’t been an easy decision to make, that it wasn’t even one he was happy with. “The Bog King reached out to us,” he said.

Marianne stared at him, gaping slightly. “With _marriage_?”

He laughed a little. “No, no. With trade. Their winter wasn’t easy, it happens, and he’s willing to- breach his own code of isolation it seems, to ensure their comfort.” He looked briefly up at his daughter and then away. “I didn’t want to tell you until I was certain it would happen - I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

She was still staring, having difficulty comprehending the whole thought of the Bog King, the king of all the denizens of the Dark Forest, so frequently painted by her kind into being some kind of wicked monster to scare young fairies away from the border… _actively_ seeking diplomacy. Marianne used to dream of it happening, knowing from watching her mother fight the same fight she was that there was little chance of convincing the Fields to extend that courtesy.

Now she could see even that didn’t work. Her father - though he wasn’t perfect; always dragging his feet when Marianne brought up reaching out to their neighbors - was willing to do something with the Bog King having taken the first step, but he narrow-minded, closed-off, slimy old Councilors had obviously been loath to offer trade with _goblins_. Their enemy, they’d say, they wouldn’t be able to trust them. They’d steal all the Feild’s resources, leave us starving by midsummer.

But if they had a face they recognized, their darling princess ruling as the Dark Forest’s queen… well, perhaps then these creatures might be held to their word. And if the agreement dissolved - if the Bog King refused the arranged marriage… well it was no skin off their noses. Another reason to despise the Forest, with no respect for the proper way of doing things…

Marianne didn’t like it, in fact she liked it even less now that she understood how it had happened. But she didn’t have anything else she could say other than that.

Well, she had one more thing.

**Number three.**

“Why _Dawn_?”

Dagda laughed again, and Marianne had a feeling he had watched the entire thought process as it flicked over her features. “That one should be obvious to you, my dear.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not,” she snapped.

“You’re the _heir_ , Marianne. You have had the training all your life to be Queen. Frankly, you would make a wonderful diplomat, I know that. But either way, whichever of you went would have to be trained in their ways in order to rule, and if you went we would lose the one trained in ours.”

She hated being talked about like she was a piece of a puzzle, a tool used by other strategists in a game she had no say in. But, as things stood in the kingdom, her father was right. It was, at the end of the day, a waste of resources for her to go.

It didn’t mean she liked it. “It should be me,” she said stubbornly.

“My dear, are you honestly telling me you would rather marry the Bog King?”

Marianne bristled a little, both at her father’s tone and at the way her stomach dropped at the thought. It had been a year, a year since her almost wedding to Roland, and a year since she had accidentally flew across the border. She didn’t like to think about the fact that she had nearly been caught by goblin sentries, or what would have happened if she - branded a primrose thief - had been brought before the Bog King.

What happened afterward had been even worse. Roland’s betrayal had scarred her far deeper than a brush with goblins could have ever done, but in the year that passed her subconscious had melded the two together, creating a fear of the Dark Forest that made her shake anytime she thought about the idea of entering it for too long. Even those who didn’t know the nature of her fallout with Roland - and that was everyone - knew Marianne avoided the Forest at any cost. It caused many Councilors to call her a hypocrite in all but name when she brought up diplomacy

She shook herself out of these thoughts. “You’re the one who’s always after me to find myself a king,” she said with a forced smile.

Dagda patted her hand. “And you’re the one who has told me again and again that you don’t wish to marry.”

“That’s just it,” Marianne pulled her hand away and pushed away from the table, pacing. “I _don’t_ care about marriage and so I _know_ I’m never going to marry for love - Dawn does want that - that  _love_. We can’t just take that from her because we want to use her for political reasons. That’s terrible!”

He sighed, getting to his feet again as well. “Marianne, my dear, sometimes these things really do have to be done. That’s part of being royalty. No, it isn’t fair, but you’ve got to do what you can with what you have. You’ll learn that someday.”

Marianne shook her head, more frustrated than ever. Shaking her head, she started to head for the door, ready for a particularly heavy sparring session to at least try to work out her feelings, when something occurred to her and she went still. “Dad,” she said, turning to look back at him again. “Does Dawn know about this yet?”

Her father stood, wringing his hands and Marianne knew the answer before he said it. “I was actually hoping you might help me with that.”


	2. Chapter 2

Princess Dawn would have very much liked to have said that she took the news of her impending engagement to the Bog King relatively well.

But that was simply not true.

It didn’t help, of course, that Dawn had the terrible habit of crying whenever she was frustrated. Or when she was surprised. Or angry. Or upset. And surprise, Dawn was all of these things.

And just to top everything off, her older sister was utterly calm. Marianne, Miss. Dramatically-cancel-my-wedding-reinvent-my-entire-self-won’t-let-my-baby-sister-have-a-life-anymore, was calm. Marianne was never calm. Even when Dawn was freaking out over boys or parties or clothing or her hair… even then, she could always count on knowing Marianne was more dramatic than her.

Then again, perhaps this calm Marianne meant that she was upset about all of this, so much so that she was behaving out of character. That only made Dawn feel worse.

“Who knows,” Marianne said. “The Bog King might still say no to the marriage. Dad only announced that he was going to send him the proposal.”

Dawn groaned, though with her throat raw from crying earlier it came out hoarse. “Marianne, please don’t call it a proposal - as if anything about this resembles a real marriage! This - a proposal?” She laughed bitterly, and wiped tears off her cheeks.

Marianne sighed. Dawn wished for the first time for her sister’s irrational anger. It would have come in handy. “Look, it’s as real as the idea of you marrying whatever crush you had today,” she said. 

“Oh, don’t give me that.” Dawn looked up from her bed at her sister who sat on her vanity, cross-legged, her face still unreadably calm. “I was going to marry one of them, some day. I was going to find the right one, and you know what, I was going to have _time_. Time to look until I found someone I loved, and now I’m not getting any of that.”

For a moment Marianne’s calm mask slipped and Dawn regretted her outburst, but really, her sister always brought out a more irritable side to her that she usually tried to avoid. Marianne was the angry one, not her. “I know,” Marianne said, her voice almost sad. “Believe me, I know. Bu- you know, maybe it will-”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “’ _It’ll be all right_ ’? Really, Marianne? He’s a goblin!”

“Dawn!” Marianne said, and Dawn regretted that worse than her first outburst. Dawn liked to think she didn’t harbor the prejudices that some of the elder Councilors did, but she wasn’t perfect. She loved elves, was best friends with one in fact and had advocated very vocally for both Sunny’s right to come to fairy balls - a compromise was reached that he came only if he was in charge of musical entertainment - and for more privileges to be given to the elf village as a whole. But… where goblins were concerned… 

And she knew it wasn’t fair of her, to dislike them only based on the prejudices and stereotypes she had only heard. She had never seen a goblin, actually, while she saw elves everyday… and so maybe her prejudice came from a fear of the unknown, it didn’t make it okay and she knew it. 

But even then, there was a difference between tolerating, or even liking the creatures and marrying one of them. 

Faced with her silence as she mulled this over, Marianne ran her fingers through her hair. “Look, my point still stands,” she said. “He could say no. The Forest does have its whole ban on love going.”

Dawn’s brow furrowed. “I thought it was just on the Love Potion,” she said.

Marianne shrugged a little. “I’ve heard it both ways, honestly. It’s one of the things I’ve wanted to ask the Bog King, if I ever met him.”

“So why don’t you marry him?” Dawn grumbled, before she could help herself.

She expected Marianne to freak out at that. At least, get some squeak or splutter of outrage. Marianne loudly protested relationships and marriage any chance she got. Marianne was deathly afraid of the Dark Forest.

Marianne looked at her hands and spoke quietly. “I suggested it. Sort of.”

That was not what she expected. 

“ _What_?” Dawn asked, now sitting up completely, her jaw dropping.

“I know you don’t want this, Dawn,” Marianne said seriously, her brown eyes keen as she looked her over. “I knew it the second dad brought it up. I don’t _want_ you to have to do this - I wanted to suggest it be me, but dad wasn’t having it. I’m the heir,” she made an elaborate wave of her hands on the word heir, her face pulled into something disdainful.

They didn’t talk about it often, Marianne’s being the heir. Lately, they didn’t talk often, period, but before then, it was never really something that occurred to them. Yes, Marianne would be queen, and Dawn would not, but she’d never particularly minded that. Marianne would make a nice queen, and Dawn did not envy her the responsibilities that would come with it. Never did she think, for once, that Marianne being the heir would get her out of something. 

Still, Dawn was shocked that her sister had even made the suggestion. “You’d be willing to do that?”

“For diplomacy, yeah.” Marianne said. “I wouldn’t like it, maybe, but I wouldn’t like to be married, period, so who it is to wouldn’t really matter.”

“But- but the Forest?”

“I’d- bear it,” she said, offering a smile that was more of a wince. “I know it’s irrational, and I know nothing would harm me as… their queen.”

Dawn shook her head, before another thought occurred to her. “Oh skies, Marianne, I’m going to be their queen! I can’t be their queen! They’re-!”

“Goblins, yes, we’ve established that,” Marianne said, a gentle affection entering her voice. Dawn hadn’t heard her sister take that tone with her in some time. “And they- I’m sure they don’t expect you to be good at it, not at first. Certainly no one expects much of you at all.”

“Yeah, except to sign my life away,” she said glumly. Tears were coming again and she blinked fast, trying to hold them at bay. She’d have to move, she’d leave the palace behind, leave the entire fairy kingdom behind. All of her friends, her dad, even Marianne for all that her hovering and protectiveness annoyed her - it would hurt not to get to see her at all. 

Would she ever get to see Sunny?

Marianne was quiet, watching all of this register on Dawn’s face, watching her silent crying begin, and then, with a clear reluctance Dawn wasn’t sure she was aware of, said. “Dawn, you are still a princess. You can say no. Dad would- he wouldn’t _force_ you - you know he wouldn’t. If you really want-”

But Dawn had already interrupted, had already thought about this. “We wouldn’t have trade with them if I say no.”

“Dawn, you don’t know for sure-”

“No, dad wouldn’t do this, I _know_ he wouldn’t, if he thought he’d get diplomacy another way. What happens if I don’t marry the Bog King - will their kingdom starve?”

Marianne shook her head, impatient. “I don’t know. Look, all dad told me was that the king reached out, and that their winter had been hard on them. I don’t know if what they need it food, or supplies for building shelters or what, but I’m trying to say it’s no reason to do anything that will make you miserable!”

“Well, you know, you make yourself miserable all the time for this kingdom so maybe it’s my turn!” 

The silence that followed was near deafening. Marianne’s brown eyes were the widest Dawn had ever seen them and she really wasn’t sure where the words had come from. She never thought about it really, how it wasn’t just whatever had happened with Roland that made her sister irritable and exhausted and so unhappy, but all the pressure she went under trying to be a diplomatic ruler with a kingdom that wouldn’t listen to a word she said. Marianne never confided these things with Dawn - clearly thinking that her flighty baby sister didn’t need to know the stresses of the Fairy Kingdom - but Dawn didn’t need to hear about it to see it. 

Marianne had been fighting for years to see some sort of diplomacy with the Dark Forest, and here it was; nothing like either of them wanted, but a chance they might never get again.

Dawn felt her throat close up again, tears burning at her eyes. “Marianne. I’ll do this.”

“Dawn, no,” Marianne said, her own voice decidedly wobbly. “We’ll think of a different- I don’t want you to do this for- for me. That’s dumb and selfish.”

“What’s selfish about it? They came to us.” She wiped at her tears unsubtly. “I want to do something, Marianne. For once, I’d like to help.”

Marianne got off the vanity, coming over to sit by her. She looked like she wanted to argue but could find no points to contest. It was what Dawn expected; Marianne didn’t want Dawn to marry the Bog King, sure, but if it was a choice between that and crumbling relations, well, that’s how her priorities were skewed. 

She felt guilty for the thought as soon as she had it. She had no way to know how her sister really felt about all of this. Maybe she never would. 

So she spoke before Marianne could, trying for levity that didn’t match her scratchy voice and tear-stained face. “And, like you said, he might say no. Can’t see why a goblin would want to marry someone like me. I’m probably too…”

“Pretty?” Marianne suggested, a bitter kind of smile coming to her lips. 

“Oh, Marianne, that’s what I mean. It’s all subjective. They probably find slimy, scaly things pretty and I’m so soft and… pink.” It was oddly… freeing, to consider that she might be unattractive to goblins. Dawn had never been unattractive, just by nature alone.  “Can’t imagine he’d want someone pink.”

Marianne looked like she almost wanted to laugh. Dawn couldn’t remember the last time she heard Marianne laugh. It lasted a moment before she sobered. “We’ll see if he’s willing to, for his people.”

If he was, Dawn thought, he really would get on with Marianne. Royalty having to jump through any number of painful hoops to get what they wanted. 

“We’ll see,” Dawn said. She nudged her sister’s shoulder. “Go tell dad I agreed.” 

“Dawn-”

“I have, Marianne, and I’m not going to be talked out of it. I’m as stubborn as you are.”

Marianne nodded, then patted her sister on the head. “I know _that_. I’ll tell dad.” She got up and went to the door, before turning back. “Dawn, I love you, you know. And I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know, sis,” Dawn said. And meant it. “I love you, too.”

* * *

Not three days later a message came that the Bog King had agreed to their terms and would marry Princess Dawn of the Fairy Kingdom.

Dawn wept again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I feel this is the angstiest we're gonna get. Soon Bog and Marianne will meet and that will be a different sort of angst but frankly less painful than this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog and Marianne meet. It's awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like mistaken identity tropes don't judge me

What Bog would have liked was to simply show up at the fairy palace, pick up his fairy bride, and call the whole thing finished. Even better he would have liked to have the princess dropped off at the border and escorted to him by his subjects and avoid their kingdom all together.

What Bog would have liked most of all was for this arrangement to not exist, or be needed at all.

But Bog hadn’t been getting what he wanted much of late.

It didn’t help that, of course, that his mother was thrilled that he had agreed to the political marriage. He would have thought, with the stubborn goblin’s desire for him to find ‘someone to love’, she would have been a bit more reluctant to see him sign his life into a practical and pragmatic arrangement with a creature that likely would want nothing to do with him.

“Oh, my son,” she’d cackled when he accidentally let his opinion slip to her. “You’ll _grow_ to love the girl, and she, you. Just give it a chance.” 

Bog refrained from saying that, however unlikely it was that he, the Bog King, could grow to love a fairy, it would be even more impossible for the princess to ever return them. 

Although, frankly, this entire affair had long crossed the line of impossibility. There was no love lost between his kingdom and there’s, but for once he was willing to put that aside for the trade that would make it possible for the northern reaches of his kingdom not to starve. He’d expected a refusal honestly, and even in the small hope he had surmounted he would have never expected a proposed arrangement of marriage as their only stipulation. 

He’d agreed. He’d _had_ to agree. But it was all so surreal that Bog wasn’t sure the gravity of it all had really hit him yet. It would hit him when there was a fairy princess living in his castle as his wife…

And now, to top everything off, he was to go to the fairy kingdom for a party. A bloody party to celebrate their engagement, as though this arrangement was some grand romantic gesture. Bog felt sick just thinking about it. 

He would likely have to return to their kingdom again, for the wedding. It hadn’t been stated but it was unspoken knowledge that the fairy kingdom would marry their princess in their fashion, and the goblins would then take her hold a ceremony of their own. 

Impractical, all of it. Bog just wanted to get the bloody thing over with.

Still he went, because Griselda would never let him hear the end of it if he did not. Not to mention, after all the trouble of getting this agreement with their kingdom, he wasn’t going to fuck it over because he didn’t like their frivolous formalities. 

The fairy palace was built from natural sources, much like his own castle. In their case, a hollowed out boulder that sat near the center of the fields. In the height of spring, said fields were a flowering mess of vibrancy that, even in the early evening light, almost stung at Bog’s eyes as he arrived at the palace.

His guard, small for this excursion but still present, waited just outside the doorways to main ballroom of the fairy palace (yes, the main, emplying more than one. What they did in the lesser ones Bog didn’t care to wonder). The main ballroom was from what must have been an innermost chamber of the stone the palace was carved into - a geode room, high cielings of glittering jagged crystal reflecting and bouncing back lights of silvering pinks and blues, the floor was almost a mirrored glass. 

The effort it must have taken the crafters of this palace to create it spoke of how long-standing and well-founded the fairy kingdom truly was.

It also spoke of a society that cared far too much about it’s parties.

The Bog King was announced. The Bog King entered. And the Bog King was obviously and spectacularly avoided by the whole of the room. Not that he was making any attempt to go into the crowd. He didn’t even know which one of these fairies - all short haired, pale-skinned, and grandly dressed - was his now-fiancee.

And perhaps that was one of the reasons that he was keeping to the walls of the crystaline room; he didn’t want to find her. Bog knew what kept the rest of her kingdom away from him like he harbored some kind of disease, but it would be something else to see that obvious revulsion and fear in the eyes of the creature he would be taking as his bride.

Gods, Bog didn’t _want_ love - at very least he knew better than to ever _expect_ it in his life - but this twisted version of marriage felt even worse.

“Your majesty! I thought I heard your name called.” A female voice called, low and melodious and jolting him out of his thoughts. He felt his gut twist with something akin to nerves as he turned to look at the fairy kingdom’s princess.

And the fairy before him was doubtlessly their princess, although Bog couldn’t quite have said why he knew it with such certainty. Certainly she didn’t look too terribly different from the rest of the fairies he had seen. She was the same hight, same build, even her coloring - brown hair and eyes - appeared rather common. Her dark hair was pinned away from her face, although in a different style than the others, with a few sections styled to fall in front of one eye.

Her clothing perhaps, was what stood her apart. The bodice was pink, but a shade dark and velvety, the black skirt falling almost to her feet - most fairies he saw of either gender wore tunics and dresses that didn’t go much further than their knees. Her makeup was a similar palate, and really, that was another thing; she was wearing makeup, unlike anyone else in her kingdom. Dark eyeshadow making her amber eyes _pop_ dramatically, and her lips the same deep fuchsia as her gown. 

In the glittering crystal ballroom, she looked like darkness personified, and Bog couldn’t help but wonder if her kingdom hadn’t dressed her so to make her look more appealing to the ruler of the Dark Forest, to make her look like she belonged to his world. 

It was- it wasn’t _unappealing_ , he supposed. And, surprisingly, she didn’t look uncomfortable in it either. Perhaps, perhaps it had been _her_ idea? That she might have wanted to impress him had him feeling both amazement and guilt. She shouldn’t- he knew she didn’t want this. How could she? Bog knew he was no prize by his own kingdom’s standards, that a fairy like her should be forced into this arrangement-

She tilted her head, blinking those large eyes, and Bog realized that she had asked him something. He also realized that he had very unsubtly been staring this creature that was to be his wife. 

“Ah- I’m sorry. Did- did ye-”

“I asked if you were okay,” she - Princess Dawn, wasn’t it? - said. “But I think you just answered that.”

Her wide eyes betrayed some of her trepidation at speaking to a goblin, a distrust and fear that he had expected from her species - after all, his folk weren’t exactly trusting of there’s either - but her tone was steady, almost teasing. He was caught off guard and as such spoke before he had the chance to think.

“Can ye blame me, princess?” 

She blinked, but then a smile curled at her lips. It wasn’t a happy smile, bitter and sharp-edged. “No, I really can’t. Nonetheless, I hope-” Here, her smile dipped. “I hope you’re not _too_ uncomfortable. I know my kind doesn’t think… highly of the Forest and its inhabitants but-”

Bog held up a hand. “My land and its folk aren’t innocent of their prejudices either,” he conceded. He didn’t have a Council the way her kingdom ruled; he was the absolute ruler in all decisions, but that didn’t mean there weren’t elder goblins, especially from the reaches of the kingdom, that had looked down on him - figuratively - for a move they considered weak. Resorting to the help of the fairy kingdom, being bound to their kind. 

She nodded, her hand twitched like she wanted to pass it through her hair but instead picked at the high neckline of her gown. “Fair enough,” she agreed. “It’s still something I look forward to combating, in the future.” 

“Combating, indeed,” he said dryly. “Ye would need little short of aggressive actions to get anywhere now.” Generations of isolation and prejudices wouldn’t be obliterated in a day, or even a year. Still, Bog could admit he was impressed that this princess was genuinely trying- he had never imagined a fairy would actually-

“And you wouldn’t qualify _this_ as an aggressive action?” She asked, with a wave to the engagement party they were making no move to really be apart of - for all that it was _their_ engagement. He snorted and she rolled her large brown eyes. “Yes, okay, it’s a _small_ step. But it is in the right direction, and that’s what’s important. At least, that’s what I try to keep telling myself…”

Her voice quieted into something almost mournful and Bog tensed up again. Until that moment he hadn’t even realized to the extent that he had felt almost comfortable with this dark-clad fairy, and that knowledge made the _un_ comfortable feeling now settling in his gut increase two-fold. It didn’t matter that she had made an attempt to talk to him to draw him out, to speak as though they had any sort of commonality, it was clear - she didn’t want this, any of it. Her Council had decided it, her hands were as tied as his were in this. 

Bog had known all of this coming into the arrangement, but it still stung to be confronted with it again. 

She cocked her head at him, and he realized once again that he had been silent for two long and she had read the entire thought process on his face. Bog was not used to being so easily read. He wasn’t used to people taking the time to try, either from indifference or fear.

But she didn’t comment on whatever she saw. “Well, however it turns out, you’ll have me to thank or blame for it.”

Bog’s shoulders bristled, a little taken aback by this declaration. “Why? _I_ was the one to come to yer kingdom-”

“And the council would have either laughed or declared war - and I’m honestly not sure which would have been worse for our relations - if it weren’t that my father… that I had been advocating for this-” Bog’s eyes went wide and she shook her head quickly, a slight pink rising to creamy pale cheeks. “Not- not marriage- no. No, obviously I wouldn’t have considered- I just mean, I’ve wanted to have… oh, talks, trade, anything with your land for… well, a long time now.” This time she did pass her hand through her hair. “So, like I said, you can thank or blame me later.”

“Thank ye,” he said immediately, before he could even think of what he was saying. He had been surprised - shocked, honestly - that the fairy kingdom had agreed to trade, even if it was with this uncomfortable stipulation attached. And if they hadn’t… well, the kingdom would have survived, overall, but the cost would have been more than Bog wanted to think about.

Her cheeks burned a little redder but her smile was the softest thing Bog had ever seen. “Yeah well, it’s still just a small step. I’m not expecting much… _more_ from this- I’m not even imagining we’re going to talk often, of course…”

Bog’s brow furrowed. “I don’t see why we wouldn’t.” This wasn’t an arrangement based on any sort of affection but surely she didn’t think he would _neglect_ her. Especially seeing as she was proving to be, dare he even say, clever. For a fairy, of course, but a… pleasant surprise.

Her eyes went wide and Bog was struck again by their clear amber color, the way the dark makeup gave them the impression of glowing. “ _Really_?”

Her voice was hushed, almost awed and he felt heat rush to his face, confused by the intensity of her reaction. “Ah, certainly.”

She bit her lip, looking something alarmingly close to happy by this simple stuttering statement. “Well- that’s- that’s good, then. I’ll look forward to that.”

She would _look forward_ to it?

Bog could feel this spiraling out of any control he’d had on the situation. He was certain his heart wasn’t supposed to be beating erratically at a equally simple statement. It didn’t change anything about their arrangement, not at all. 

So why was his heart still racing?

The princess picked at her collar again and Bog pinned it down as a nervous gesture. “Well, I mean, I suppose I was expecting some contact,” she added. “I’m going to want to keep in touch with Dawn, of course.”

Bog’s heart stopped. 

“Dawn?” He croaked. But that was- she was-

Her eyes narrowed, into confused little slits. “My sister. Did the letter not mention her name? I would have thought our father-”

“Nae- it- it did,” Bog interrupted, feeling a cold weight settle in his stomach. Her sister. He was marrying her- _oh Gods_. 

She was still watching him, completely lost and the words fell out of him before he could stop them. “Ah- Ah thought you-”

“You thought _I_ … OH!” This time her entire face went red. “Oh, oh _skies_. No- no! No!” She nearly tore the hem of her dresses neckline from tugging at it so hard. “I can’t believe I didn’t think-”

Bog shook his head so quickly is swam, raising his hands. “Nae, ye had nae reason to think I didn’t- I assumed-”

“No. No, how could you have known. I should have- skies this is what I get for ignoring protocol,” she said the last word with such disgust he almost forgot his embarrassment in favor of amusement. 

They both silent, red faced and panting a little from the frantic explanations. Bog took this time to take brief stock of the sudden changes. So this was a princess, just not the one he had expected. It didn’t change that she was clever, it didn’t change that she was the one to advocate for actual diplomacy with the forest, it didn’t change that she wanted to talk to him.

And that, while as embarrassed as he was, she didn’t appear disgusted in the slightest by being confused for his fiancee. 

She smiled, more nervous now. “Well, we’ll do it formal now, I suppose.” She held out a small long-fingered hand, and spoke with exaggerated loftiness. “Princess Marianne - it’s a pleasure.”

He took the hand and bowed over it, a purposefully elaborate gesture. “Your highness,”

“Marianne,” she said firmly. 

“Marianne,” he repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. Looking her over he wondered how he could have ever thought her to be named _Dawn_. 

 “Well, now that that’s out of the way,” Marianne straightened her shoulders and squeezed the hand he realized he still held. “Let’s go find my sister.”

“Wha- what?” He spluttered. “Now?”

She grinned back at him, seeming to grow more comfortable - and bold - by the second. “It’s why you’re here, after all. Come on, you’ll like Dawn. Everyone does.”

But as Bog followed the elder princess, his future sister-in-law, helplessly as she dragged him into an alarmed fairy crowd, he a different sort of discomfort seizing him. For the life of him he couldn’t have put a name to it, but it very well could have been disappointment.  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! Anyways I thought I'd get an update done for Strange Magic week's 'Arranged Marriage' prompt!

****Marianne was proud of how calm she was appearing outwardly, as she led the Bog King by the arm to meet her sister, his betrothed. The crowd at the ball parted dramatically as they walked, but it appeared being with the Crown Princess, odd as she might be, granted the King more civility than fairies might normally have given a goblin.

Internally, however, Marianne was a mess. 

She had been so close to telling the Bog King that she had wished - still wished - that it was she who was marrying him and not Dawn. Purely from a familial love and political pragmatic perspective of course, but with so many misunderstandings between them in such a short amount of time, Marianne couldn’t afford letting him get the wrong idea.

It was so…. disappointing; they had been getting along, rather well for a first meeting with surrounding circumstances that no one was truly happy with - but their conversation had turned out to be so many missed meanings, the two of them actually believing they were having separate conversations. She spoke about talking to him again as two rulers might meet, and even if she hoped those meetings might be less formal than a Council it didn’t change that when he expressed interest back, he was speaking of talking to his wife.

The Bog King had thought her to be his betrothed, and had seemed rather okay with the idea. Of course he didn’t want to be marrying anyone, but at least he hadn’t seemed disgusted that it might be her.

And in turn, Marianne had been embarrassed that she hadn’t properly introduced herself, that she had put him in this awkward situation, but she realized as she walked with him, she was hardly disgusted either. Sparing him a sidelong glance, she considered him. He was enormous, over a head taller than everyone in the room, with wide, sharp shoulder paldrons and an overall exoskeleton the rich browns of a healthy tree. His face way pale as a sycamore, with a nose as sharp as the rest of him and hooded eyes. 

Those eyes had surprised her; a bright, vibrant shade of blue. Her mother had had blue eyes, as did Dawn, but that fit them. This dark, fearsome goblin king… she never would have imagined such eyes…

“Do I have somethin’ on my face, yer highness?” Bog’s dry-toned voice broke her out of her observations. She pressed her lips together and hoped she wasn’t blushing.

“Marianne,” she reminded him.

“Marianne,” he agreed, his rough brogue curled around the syllables, turning her name into something she had never heard before. “Now are ye goin to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. One of his leafy brows lifted in skepticism. “You look… nervous, that’s all.”

It wasn’t a lie, he did look increasingly uncomfortable. The longer they went before finding Dawn the more he looked like he wanted to fly out the nearest window and never return. She couldn’t say she blamed him.

He snorted, but said nothing to deny it.

She smiled. “I told you, everyone likes Dawn. It’ll be fine.”

The Bog King was silent for a moment before saying. “It’s not my likin her that I’m thinkin about.”

 _Oh_.

Marianne allowed herself another calculating look at the Bog King. He looked different than anything she could have imagined, different even then what goblins she knew of. But there was nothing in those differences that she found ugly, or even really frightening-

But Marianne had always been an oddball. And she knew that it wasn’t just awed and fearful respect that made her subjects give him a wide berth, it was disgust.

Marianne loved Dawn, loved her very much, but she was willing to give her sister her faults where they were due, and one of them was caring very much about her appearance and others. Marianne would also be the first to admit she used to have the same vice - it was how she nearly wound up married to a cheating, power-hungry low-life like Roland - but after her heartbreak she’d realized physical appearance wasn’t all that there was to a person.

Dawn might realize that, too, given time. But there was a good chance the Bog King would be married to a woman that found him hideous.

“Do you find fairies attractive?” She asked. 

This question flustered him more than expected. He pulled away slightly, his pale face coloring. “Wha- I- I- don’t-?”

She gave him the benefit of ignoring his stammering. “I mean, I assume, as a goblin, you’re attracted to goblins.” She remembered what Dawn said to her once. “You probably think we’re too pale and spindly.” When he still looked confused almost, she sighed. “I’m just saying, this relationship is a partnership. Dawn understands that as much as you do, or else she wouldn’t have agreed. Attraction doesn’t really come into play.”

“Ye do realize that doesn’t make me feel any better about this,” Bog said dryly. “Ye- she deserves not t’be stuck with a creature she doesn’t care for.”

Marianne frowned. “And you don’t?”

He frowned back. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, it’s just-” With her free hand, Marianne picked at her gown. “You just seem awfully concerned about her emotions for a-” She cut herself off. blushing very red now.

“For a _what_?” The Bog King asked, his voice several degrees cooler. 

Now Marianne wanted to fly out the nearest window. She looked away, but she could feel his blue-eyed gaze, burning her. “Forget- forget I said anything…”

“For a what, yer highness?”

The use of her formal title irritated her enough to look up at him, meeting his eyes. He had leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers and for a moment, Marianne was too stunned by his eyes to remember the conversation. 

Finally she said, her voice deceptively calm. “For a person who banned love.”

The Bog King blinked, and then all at once his offense vanished with a tired sigh. He straightened up again. 

“I’ve had my reasons,” he said, his voice rougher with an unspoken emotion. 

“Preventing the use of a Love Potion, right?” Marianne said. He looked down at her again, startled. “I do my research, Bog King.”

“So ye do,” he said, but there was a note of bitter amusement in his tone. It made her smile.

“And so I have had to tell my Council time and again,” she said, a bitter note of her own creeping into her voice. “They know - we all know - that you hold the Sugar Plum as a prisoner, but they seem to forget it is to prevent the use of the Love Potion.”

Bog frowned again. “As opposed to what?” 

Marianne bit her tongue, wishing she hadn’t said anything, again. What was it about talking with him that had her losing control of what she should and should not be saying to a diplomatic partner. At this rate she would wind up offending him beyond repair and this whole arrangement would fall apart with no one to blame but herself. 

She said nothing, but looked at him solemnly, and he got the message.

He bristled, his shoulders actually moved, clacking against one another. It was fascinating. “They honestly think I would- to _my own wife_?”

“Your wife from an arranged marriage,” Marianne pointed out. “They’re afraid you’ll want to… _ensure_ her fidelity.”

Bog looked queasy by the very thought, and Marianne felt guilty for bringing it up. She had spent an entire meeting all but screaming as she shut down these ignorant accusations.

“Yer sister doesn’t deserves this,” Bog said at last.

“She agreed to it, Bog.” He looked startled by the informal use of his name, but Marianne was too earnest about this to feel embarrassed. “She agreed on her own, of her own free will. If she hadn’t she wouldn’t be here.” Or I would be in Dawn’s place, she thought but didn’t say. “This is more important than attraction and far more important than love, or else _you_ wouldn’t be here.”

There was another silence as Bog seemed to consider this. They continued their walk, Marianne scanning for her sister. If she wasn’t in the ballroom it meant she was on one of the balconies, but they’d have to check out each one. With a gently pressure on his arm, Marianne led Bog toward the nearest of the tall, wide doors. 

“What about you?” He asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Why are _you_ here? Why are ye-” He groped for a phrase. “Helpin me?”

Marianne laughed softly. “I told you before, this is what I’ve always wanted; to talk to the King of the Dark Forest, to better our relations. Like I’d let this chance go.”

He snorted. “Yer tellin me ye wouldn’t rather enjoy yer ball?”

“ _Never_ ,” she said firmly. “This is the most I’ve enjoyed a ball in over a year.”

Bog flushed and as her words caught up with her so did she. It was the truth, though. After what happened with Roland, Marianne had gone to the fairy balls out of necessity, but she hadn’t enjoyed a single one. In all honesty, the balls _with_ Roland had always carried a anxiety, a need to look and behave a certain way - she hadn’t _really enjoyed_ a ball since her mother passed.

Trying to alleviate the awkwardness, Marianne added, “Besides, what’re sister-in-laws for?”

Nope. That was more awkward.

It was the first time she’d given a name to their relationship, an official name. And that’s what it was; he was marrying her sister, they would be in-laws. But saying it out loud felt so… _strange_. 

Shaking herself, Marianne continued her walk in silence, releasing Bog’s arm to open the doors to the first balcony. 

There weren’t as many fairies outside, and one of them actually shrieked when the Bog King appeared. Marianne bit back a sigh. Bog did look a bit more foreboding in the rapidly darkening evening. His chitin didn’t reflect much light, taking him into shadow quicker than the surroundings.

In complete contrast, on the other side of the balcony, Princess Dawn seemed to catch every particle of light the evening had to offer, glowing as if she were a light all her own.

“There,” Marianne gestured. Bog stilled as he followed her gaze. Dawn was looking out over the fields, her pink and orange wings draped behind her like a glittering cape. She looked pensive and regal, like a portrait.

“I’m not sure I can do this,” Bog said stiffly.

Marianne snorted. “You did just fine when you thought it was me.”

They both looked at each other for a second, coming to a silent agreement not to talk - or think - about why that might be. 

She took his arm again, all but dragging him across the floor. Finally when she was close enough, Marianne spoke, “Dawn.”

At the same time, Bog spoke, “Your highness.”

Dawn started, with the softest squeak, straightened and turned. Her hands clasped before her, her eyes wide.

For a moment, Marianne was struck again with how different she and her sister really looked. Dawn’s curls caught the lamplight and shone like they were spun from gold. Her gown was evening blue, darker than her usual pastel shades but still soft and elegant. Their eyes carried the same shape but Dawn’s were cornflower blue, beautiful enough to garner ballads in their honor. 

Marianne knew she was pretty, but some days it was hard to feel so when her younger sister was practically an ethereal being. 

Meanwhile, Dawn’s wide eyes were taking in the Bog King, tall and shadowed, wringing his own hands in front of him. In that instant, they both looked equally terrified of each other.

“Oh skies,” Dawn said softly. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t inside just now- I didn’t hear you announced-”

“Dawn,” Marianne began.

“And I don’t want you to think I was _avoiding_ \- I wasn’t- it was just stuffy inside and I wasn’t sure when you’d arrive and I-”

Bog was looking increasingly concerned by Dawn’s nervous fluttering. Marianne sighed. “ _Dawn_.”

Dawn went quiet and looked between Marianne and the Bog King. 

Marianne stepped away from the goblin king and gave them a determined smile. “Dawn, this is the Bog King of the Dark Forest. Bog King, this is my sister, Princess Dawn.”

Dawn shook off her panic with an ease that Marianne had always envied. She executed a flawless curtsey. “Your majesty,” she said. Hesitantly she extended a hand. 

Bog took the offered hand, his large clawed fingers closing so gently over her smooth skin. He bowed over it; though stilted and uncomfortable, Marianne was struck by the grace in the gesture. “Your highness,” he said.

 _He had mocked formality with her in the ballroom_ , she thought, _she never would have expected him to be so good at it._

Not privy to her thoughts, he went on, his brogue thick and warm. “I want to thank ye for agreein to this arrangement.”

Dawn’s eyes were still wide, but Marianne could see it was a surprise at his, well, gentleman’s behavior and no longer fear that had her nearly stammer her response. “It’s my pleasure, your majesty. I understand the importance of the situation.”

The Bog went a step further.

He brought Dawn’s hand to his lips.

Marianne felt something in her gut clench at the action. _He hadn’t done that for her_ , she thought, even when he thought they were engaged. There was nothing necessarily romantic in the gesture; it was all formality and etiquette and both Marianne and Dawn had had their hands kissed by more dignitaries than they could probably both count.

So why was she so caught up on this?

Dawn was not half so flustered, and she’d been the one kissed. She smiled politely and withdrew her hand with no real haste. If she hadn’t been there, Marianne would have had no idea that her sister had cried her eyes out for days over the prospect of marrying the creature that stood before her.

This was suddenly too much for her. Too much being unsaid, too much formality and practiced words and actions. Too much of her thinking, even then that it should be her, engaged to the Bog King.

She stepped away from them both. “I’ll just- I’ll let you to get acquainted.”

Both Bog and Dawn gave her a look of pure horror. Dawn’s lips form a silent ‘no’. 

But she needed to step away, needed to get air, needed to clear her head. Looking to Bog she said, “It was- it was a pleasure meeting you, your majesty.”

Bog frowned and opened his mouth, but she had moved on to Dawn. “I’m going to go speak with dad. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

Turning, she left the couple on the balcony, trying to tell herself it wasn’t a retreat.


End file.
